Charlemagne

Sire, there are no Belgians

The fear and hope of Belgium’s royal succession

MORE than two centuries after French revolutionaries guillotined Louis XVI, Europeans still love their kings and queens. A quarter of the European Union is made up of constitutional monarchies. Even those living in republics are fascinated by this year’s royal foibles: in Spain King Juan Carlos made a rare apology for going on an elephant-hunting jaunt while his people suffered recession and unemployment; in the Netherlands Queen Beatrix abdicated in favour of her son Willem-Alexander; and in Britain William and Kate produced a little prince.

In purely political terms however, perhaps the royal event with the greatest importance took place this week in Belgium. Albert II surrendered the throne to his son, Philippe, now the seventh King of the Belgians. The monarchy is one of the few institutions that still hold Belgium together. And unlike other European royals, Belgian kings play a vital role in mediating the formation of governments. For a small country of 11m people, Belgium is bewilderingly divided into three federal regions (Flanders, Wallonia and Brussels) and three linguistic communities (Dutch, French and a small German one), each with its own parliament.

Political parties are split between French-speaking Walloons and Dutch-speaking Flemings. Though francophone at heart, a hereditary king may be the closest Belgium has to an impartial arbiter. The former Flemish prime minister, Wilfried Martens, is among those who argue that he is a republican “except in Belgium”. The rise of Bart De Wever, leader of the Flemish nationalist party N-VA, which seeks the gradual secession of Flanders, has made political compromise even harder. After the 2010 election, it took 541 days for parties to form a coalition.

All this matters beyond Belgium, too. The country is a microcosm of the EU, with a prosperous Germanic north that resents having to subsidise a poorer Latin south. Holding it together requires deals that often defy economic and administrative logic. If Flemings and Walloons parted ways after more than 180 years of statehood and two world wars, might they tempt other fragile states such as Spain or Italy to split too? And what chance that the euro zone could pull together to save the currency union?

The House of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha is thus playing for high stakes. Many would have preferred the 79-year-old King Albert to usher in a new government after the general election in May. Instead he hastened his departure to give Philippe time to establish himself.

Many worry about Philippe’s competence, despite a full CV that includes study at Oxford and Stanford universities, and qualification as a fighter pilot. In contrast with Albert’s bonhomie, Philippe seems shy and diffident. And he appeared to lack his father’s diplomatic touch, for instance when he rashly warned Flemish ultra-nationalists that he would stand in the way of anyone trying to dismember Belgium.

The flawless handover, full of pomp and emotion, has brought a sense of elation. In contrast with previous enthronements, nobody at the swearing-in ceremony in parliament shouted out “Vive la République!”. The far-right Flemish nationalist Vlaams Belang stayed away; the N-VA was respectfully represented by several leading figures. Philippe himself, dressed in military uniform and a purple sash, delivered a well-crafted speech with alternating passages in Dutch, French and German. The new Queen Mathilde displayed the right mixture of glamour and the human touch. Outside, in sunny weather, the flag-waving crowd sported paper crowns in black-yellow-red colours.

For a day, at least, the country seemed to have disproved the dictum of Jules Destrée, a francophone socialist, who a century ago said in an open letter to Philippe’s great-grandfather, King Albert I: “Sire ... you reign over two peoples. There are, in Belgium, Walloons and Flemings; there are no Belgians.” For Vincent Dujardin at the Catholic University of Louvain the level of popular interest is, in itself, “an important political event”. And, he says, the fact that Philippe has entrusted his office to the wily Frans van Daele, a former bureau chief of Herman Van Rompuy, the president of the European Council, is a clear sign that Philippe will not just cut ribbons, as some Flemings would like.

The king’s address sent several important signals. One was to give strong royal support to the prime minister. Another was to embrace the devolution of powers and budget to Belgium’s regions. The third was to endorse European integration. Brussels is the capital of both Belgium and the EU and the only foreign guest at the ceremony was the president of the European Commission. After all had sung the national hymn, the “Brabançonne”, the military band struck up the EU’s anthem, “Ode to Joy”.

The King’s Speech

Yet there was something odd about the king’s vision. If powers that had not been transferred down to the regions were shifted up to Europe, what would be left of Belgium beyond a flag and a crown? The currency has already been subsumed into the euro. For all the predictions of imminent collapse, Belgium, like the euro zone, somehow manages to muddle along. Not by accident, Belgium’s polyglot elite is particularly adept at striking complex EU deals. It likes to think that a common European identity, like Belgian nationhood, is elusive but real. If Belgium can find the right federal formula to satisfy Flemings and Walloons, it could yet inspire European integration. But the opposite may be true. Belgium is an ever-looser union and, even so, may be a model of perpetual misery. Yet breaking up is hard: how will the state’s huge debt be shared out? And who gets to keep Brussels? The people of Belgium, like those of the euro zone, are trapped in an unhappy arranged royal marriage. They keep going because they don’t dare end it.